


It’s Been A Long Time Coming...

by RainStorm2122



Series: Will You Protect Me, Respect Me If I Let You Close? [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Broken Families, Drug Use, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor cannibalism mention, Sad with a Happy Ending, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and prostitution, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainStorm2122/pseuds/RainStorm2122
Summary: Just a feels fic that popped into my head while listening to "Good Enough" by Evanescence and "Addicted" by Kelly Clarkson. Fic more heavily inspired by the former.Set shortly after the battle mentioned in the prior story of this series.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Will You Protect Me, Respect Me If I Let You Close? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610371
Comments: 5
Kudos: 149





	It’s Been A Long Time Coming...

The snap of ancient jaws and chirping of various insects filled the Bayou with long familiar sounds, water trickling and leaves rustling, a large brilliant white moon cutting through the canopy of darkness, all enveloping a red-tinged black mass in its’ center. The glow pulsing in tune with the wild music of his once life. Alastor dragged his bloody claws through equally blood-soaked moss and algae. The demon he’d feasted on discarded further away as the creations reminiscent of long dead alligators took care of what the Radio Demon didn’t wish to finish. Laying there in the center of his destruction, absently licking blood from his lips, Alastor couldn’t focus on what he should.

No. His thoughts weren’t filled with satisfaction of his latest kill, the new fuel to his powers, no, not even the sweet blissful screams from that once strong demon were in his ears, but what was. What was playing on repeat in his mind was a taller form. An effeminate shape, six arms, two legs, and eight magenta centered eyes. White fur occasionally permitted to brush against him, gentle clawed fingers stroking through his bi-colored hair, thumbs teasingly close to erect ears and sharp prongs. Of whispered secrets shared after a night drinking together, the form of the other two feet away from himself and both men on their sides. Red and pink claws the only thing touching on that too bright bedding, but Alastor put up with it for the chance to hear the other’s long lost story. 

A story few cared to listen to, and fewer could understand - could relate to... A story that when read between the lines was a desperate cry for what he was never offered, never given, and had to drown in as much mind numbing sin to forget for himself to function. 

Alastor gave Angel’s soul a chance to break down before him in a way he had never been able to. A way that left the arachnid so open and raw that sex was the furthest thing from his mind, a soft plead for a modicum of comfort while he attempted to pull himself back together. Feeling so flayed open, after admitting to the deer demon now cradling him in his arms that no one had ever given him the option for love without wanting to take a piece of him with them. Whether it was his dad and forcing Angel to be a mobster to carry on the family business. Whether it was johns in life and in death that just wanted to gloat that they’d done had him, some forcing Angel into things he’d never wanted but eventually submitting to just to get told an empty lie of praise and love, especially from Valentino. From Vox. Losing himself in drugs in life and in death was his way to love himself and bring his own self some pathetic replacement to feeling like he could love himself. Love himself, if he could forget just how fucked and used he was.  _ Admitting to Alastor, that while he did want sex from the deer demon, he was more than content to take it slow. Do little things. Because to him Alastor was the only one that was different from the rest. The only he knew he could trust.  _

So here was Alastor still puzzling just why this one demon had drawn him in. Continues to hold his interest, only to realize that it was because he had been missing something too. Missing something in life just like the other. Missed the safe and nurturing feeling he’d had from his mother. But after her death and no one understanding and respecting his need for space, his need for acclimation, no one he could trust with his secret for blood lust and flesh. His mother had been the only one to understand, and had helped in life, until she’d become too ill and left him to his own. Alastor realized that for once someone could actually love him, not like his mother, no that love was special on its’ own, but love him in a way he’d never thought he’d find.

  
Deep accented chuckles played through the air, weaving with the natural sounds of  **home** , as the asexual fondly thought of the irony at finding such love in someone that was so sexually persistent. But those chuckles died down to soft sighs as he relaxed further into the moss under himself,  _ perhaps this is what our mothers’ prayed for all those years ago. _ Drifting to sleep, Alastor swore he felt a familiar smile beam down on him from a stray beam of moonlight, before nothing else registered.

**Author's Note:**

> Awe, a mother always knows. <3


End file.
